


Dark Blue

by natsume_kun



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, M/M, More Like Ex-Friends To Lovers, POV Sylvain Jose Gautier, Pop Punk Sylvix AU, Punk Guitarist Sylvain, Self-Hatred, Skater Boy Felix, Sylvain Jose Gautier-centric, Will Add More Tags As I Update This
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26627173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natsume_kun/pseuds/natsume_kun
Summary: It’s been a year and that was certainly more than enough time for me to understand why Felix left. Because apparently, Felix doesn’t like sharing his bed.So, uh... context: I did it with a girl in his room this one time while he was out because it was nearer than my place. And here I thought he wouldn’t mind because he knows I’m always hooking up anyway. I mean, I was sure he’d get mad, but only for a bit. I didn’t expect he’d actually cut me off because of that.But honestly, I get there’s a deeper reason why he left.I shouldn’t be surprised. After all, it’s easy to hate me.I know because when I look in the mirror, all I can think is that I want nothing more than to run away from myself.--or, in which sylvain dyes his hair and learns to run as he chases after dark blue
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i'd like to thank robyn, ives, and dani for the chaotic exchange of headcanons that led to me writing this : )
> 
> please also check out this wonderful [punk skater boy sylvix](https://twitter.com/DALlSAY/status/1306822712749301760?s=20%22) fanart by ives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But I believe in you so much,  
> I could die for the words that you say.
> 
> But I believe in you so much,  
> I could die from the words that you say.
> 
> (Dashboard Confessional - Ghost of a Good Thing, 2003)

God, I feel like shit.

It’s the afternoon. I’m lying on the bedroom floor. It’s cold and hard and my body hurts all over, but I manage to push against my weight to sit up.

Heh, so it’s one of those days. Again.

Waking up like this is nothing new to me, really. I feel like puking, but somehow I kinda figured that it wasn’t just because of the alcohol from last night. My head is throbbing like fucking crazy and it doesn’t help that all I see is a blur of swirling colors as I make my way to the bathroom, struggling to get by with sheer spatial memory.

And then-- Oh fuck, there it is. I feel it in my throat.

I hurriedly press a hand against where I think the light switch is and get to the toilet bowl, kneeling in front of it with one of my arms resting on the seat. I push back the hair falling in front of my face as I lean over the toilet to finally throw up-- gagging on the sour taste of my own vomit as I feel tears welling up in my eyes.

“Fuck.” There’s a burning sensation in my throat again. I can feel the bile rising up and a surge of something foul coming out of my mouth in torrents.

And again.

And again.

And-- honestly, I don’t know how many more times I throw up after that. Five times? Maybe six?

I finally reach for the sink, pulling on the edge of the countertop to get myself to stand. Turn the faucet on, reach for the bottle of soap and-- 

"Shit." Of course, it topples down into the sink. I put it back in place and-- boy, do I look like shit.

My hair is a fucking mess, the stains and stench of alcohol and vomit cling onto my skin and my clothes, and the buttons on my shirt are misaligned-- probably from hastily putting it back on after last night's hook up.

_Disgusting._

I let the water run and somehow, I find comfort in the continuous splash of cold on my arm.

I try to fix my hair a bit, turn my head side to side to examine my face in the mirror. There’s vague stains of red on one corner of my lips tracing down to my chin, and bruised purple spots on my neck. I trace them with my fingers. 

As much as I hate it, I recognize this reflection-- a face that often drowned in shallow kisses at night and a neck that found itself filled with hollow bruises in the morning.

_Disgusting._

Ugh. 

I think I feel bile rising up my throat again. Nothing comes out. I feel the need to throw up, but I don’t. Yet, there’s definitely something vile in here-- something I’ve become too used to swallowing down that it’s become almost an inevitable part of myself.

But it’s been too long. Way too long that by now, whatever it is-- it was probably already swallowing me whole instead. 

It’s a losing battle, anyway. Why should I even bother fighting it? I’ll let it swallow me, I guess. It’s easier this way. Smile and give others what they desire about me while destroying myself in the process, lose myself in these vices.

But hey, it’s not all that bad. The sex feels so fucking great and the alcohol intoxicates enough to knock me out of my senses-- even if only for a moment. And for that moment, I can forget that vileness-- both within myself and surrounding me. In the midst of all this twisted revelry, I can forget the feeling of being swallowed whole.

But again, here’s the thing: they are but moments. I know I can’t keep escaping forever and yet, I act as if I could. And often, mornings like this follow-- mornings when a burning feeling rises up in my throat and in the vile sour taste in my mouth, I recognize what tastes like regret and disgust. There it is again. That taste, along with the churn in my stomach, the itch in my throat, the throbbing in my head. I remember it all too well-- the feeling of being swallowed whole. Sure, it’s painful, but _this_ is exactly what I deserve. After all, I’m--

 _You’re a fucking coward_ , I hear a voice in my head say, and it’s not mine. I know because I can recognize this voice anywhere-- it’s Felix.

Funny. 

I haven’t heard from him in a year, but it’s almost as if he never left my head. I’m not sure there was even a day I hadn’t thought of him since we last spoke.

After all, it’s hard to forget someone when you’ve been together since you were kids-- even more so when you made cheesy childhood promises with them that you’d die together when you both grew older, only for them to cut off all contact with you years later-- with your last memory together as painfully memorable as them calling you _disgusting_ and _a fucking coward_. 

Sure, I’m used to being insulted, called names-- threatened to death even (thanks, Miklan), but I’d be lying if I said Felix’s words never hurt me. Somehow, his words hit particularly differently during that one time-- as if there was some finality to them. I know Felix meant every word-- I know because I remember each of them digging viscerally into my own flesh. I know because I feel so fucking alone right now. It hurt because it was the truth, and even more so because it was Felix-- and when it’s him, there’s always something left unsaid, yet I understood nonetheless. 

Felix and I-- I guess you could say we had a special bond of sorts. I didn’t have to read so deeply between the lines to understand what Felix didn’t say: _I can’t stand you anymore. I fucking hate you. I’m leaving._

Usually, during afternoons like those, we’d walk together and I’d watch the sun set both from a distance and in his eyes. But that one time was different. I remember laughing to myself that day, and then the feeling of _missing_ something when I walked home. 

And then anger-- both towards Felix and myself. Felix was always pushing people away from himself and yet, I always chose to stay. Because as much as Felix says he doesn’t need anyone-- I mean, come on-- I know better. He _does_ need someone. I honestly did mean well-- I just wanted to be there for him just like when we were kids, and most especially during difficult times such as when Glenn died. So wasn’t all that enough for Felix to want me to stay? Shouldn’t Felix be grateful enough that I was there for him all those times? How could he push me away just like that-- as if he couldn’t even care less if I were gone?

But truth be told, Felix was also right when he said all those things-- 

_Just how can anyone stay with someone this repulsive?_ I think this to myself as I stare down my own reflection. This time, I’m not so sure if the voice is my own or Felix's.

It’s been a year and that was certainly more than enough time for me to understand why Felix left. Because apparently, Felix doesn’t like sharing his bed.

So, uh... context: I did it with a girl in his room this one time while he was out because it was nearer than my place. And here I thought he wouldn’t mind because he knows I’m always hooking up anyway. I mean, I was sure he’d get mad, but only for a bit. I didn’t expect he’d actually cut me off because of that. We’ve fought a lot, but I thought that time would just be like the same old petty fights from before. 

But-- ok, so I admit it was never just an issue of Felix not wanting to share his bed nor just an issue of me rudely getting it on with a girl on someone else's bed. And honestly, I get there’s a deeper reason why he left. 

I shouldn’t be surprised. After all, it’s easy to hate me. 

I know because when I look in the mirror, all I can think is that I want nothing more than to run away from myself.

And I guess maybe I could try that a little differently this time. Dye my hair, get some piercings or some shit like-- 

Wait, yeah that’s not a bad idea. I could ask Hilda to help. 

Maybe I’ll make the call later. 

When I look and feel less like shit.

\--

“Hilda? It’s me.”

“Sylvain? What? I’m not in the mood for it-- we just did it last week,” Hilda says, slightly annoyed.

“No, no, it’s not that. I-- I need a different kind of favor.”

“Ok? What is it? Though I’m not saying I’ll do it. Depends. I’m pretty busy, after all.”

“Can you dye my hair?”

A pause.

“Oh my gosh, Sylvain. You want to dye your hair?! Was it a suuuper bad heartbreak? Did you actually fall in love for real or something?”

“No, I-- heartbreak? Not really, but… I guess you could call it something like that?”

“OMG, who was it this time? You were dating someone again and you didn’t tell me?”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that. I mean-- I just... woke up, felt like shit, and... just suddenly thought I wanted to look cooler.”

“Ok? Like I’m actually gonna believe that’s all there is to it.” I can almost imagine Hilda rolling her eyes as she says it. “Anyway, I can come over tomorrow if you want me to dye your hair... buuuut only if you sign my attendance for Professor Byleth’s class next week.”

“Easy. Anything for you, babe.”

  
  


***

  
  


I lie awake in bed, scrolling through my phone idly in the dark as I wait for sleep to come. Something catches my eye, so I stop scrolling. It’s a photo posted by Leonie just hours ago-- an image of her smiling vibrantly as she hugged her skateboard with one arm, while beside her sat an undoubtedly familiar face who seemed too bothered to even look at the camera-- Felix.

I zoom in on his portrait. I take note of the way the sun lit Felix’s pale skin warmly, the glimmer in his sharp yet weary eyes, and that sullen look on his face that I used to tease him for. His hair is a little longer now, with a few strands falling in front of his eyes. 

I find myself smiling and I--

I realize that I’ve always liked the color of Felix’s hair. It doesn’t miss my sight-- the way the light shone on them, revealing a tinge of blue in a sea of seemingly black.

\--

When I fell asleep that night, I remember dreaming of my own fingers swimming through currents of dark blue.

  
  


***

  
  


“Hello? Dorothea?” 

“Sylvain! Finally, you picked up. Are you at the skatepark?”

“Yeah, I’m here… Are you guys near?”

“Unfortunately, Ashe and I are still stuck in class. But we’ll get there as soon as this ends.”

“Wait, what? Well... don’t worry about it. You know I’d always be willing to wait for you.”

“Right, save the sweet talk for later. Oh and let me know when you find Leonie, ok? I gotta go now-- I think the professor’s about to call on me.”

“Fine, fine. Later, Dorothea.”

I find an empty bench to sit on as I wait for the rest of the band to arrive. Settling down, I set my guitar case on the ground, and then check my phone for messages while occasionally looking around for any signs of Leonie in the maze of ramps, bowls, and halfpipes.

I’m in the middle of typing out a message for her when I hear something plummet swiftly with a loud, scratching noise against the concrete in front of me-- eventually skidding to a halt upon hitting my guitar case with a thud.

“What the--?” Suddenly, there’s a flipped skateboard at my feet.

“Shit.” An irritated grunt from a voice nearby.

Just a few steps away from the bench, there’s someone struggling to sit up from the ground as they examined a scratch on their arm. They’ve got dark hair-- now just like my own.

Almost on instinct, I pick up the skateboard and walk towards the boy who lay on the ground. Like usual, I put on a charming smile. I kneel down on one knee and stretch out a hand towards him.

“Hey, you need any help? That looked like it hurt,” I offer.

He sighs, irritated.

“I don’t need your--”

Our eyes meet and time stops. 

“Felix…” 

All I see is dark blue. 

So maybe time doesn’t actually stop, but I’m certain my heart almost does and everything feels like a movie in slow motion. The cold wind slips through the stray strands of Felix’s hair-- proof of time marching on. The friction of wheels scratching against the concrete, the boisterous cheers and chatter from skaters filling the park, the vague snap and crackle from a soda can being opened-- all of these sounds are miles away from this moment. I swallow down the tide of butterflies coming up to fill my lungs and my throat. I hold my gaze, taking in the glimmer in his eyes. He looks back at me, eyes wide and tongue-tied and I have half the mind to run my fingers through his hair right this second. Slowly, I reach out towards him and--

“Felix, I--”

A light brush of my fingertips against his cheek and he blinks, immediately shaken out of his stupor. Felix flinches, swiftly backing away from me.

“I said I don’t need your help,” Felix says-- tone harsh and cold, as he picks himself up from the ground without even as much as a final glance at me. He quickly snatches the skateboard from my grasp as he marches away.

And just like that, Felix slips away from me again. I’m too overwhelmed to go after him right then and there, but the thought of chasing Felix does cross my mind shortly after that.

I think I made a mistake? But I should’ve known, really-- that 1) Felix wasn’t exactly appreciative of affection through physical touch-- unless you were a cat or at least someone nearly as special as a cat in Felix’s eyes (which is honestly a pretty difficult bar to reach) and 2) impulsively reaching out to caress someone you haven’t been on good terms with for a year-- without even any apologies nor explanations-- isn't exactly the best way to help resolve whatever tension’s there. Maybe it works sometimes. I don’t know. I mean, I’ve seen it happen in movies. But then again, this wasn’t a movie and I’m _dealing with Felix_.

“Hey, uhhh... you two know each other? He just transferred to our school this year.” It’s Leonie.

Transferred, huh. So that explains why he’s here. That... actually kinda makes me happy.

She sets her skateboard down in front of the bench before sitting down. She gestures towards me so I take a seat beside her.

“I think I should be the one asking you that.”

“Hm?”

Leonie raises an eyebrow in question, so I continue.

“Talk about a small world. Felix and I go way back. Since we were kids. But… he hasn’t been talking to me for like a year. He uhh… he kinda hates me right now.” 

Leonie takes out a pair of drum sticks from her shoulder bag and idly juggles them with her hands as she speaks.

“Well, I can sort of see why. I mean, I don’t know what’s with you two, but… even I have to admit, Felix is… kinda difficult. Honestly, I can only ever get him to talk a lot without his temper getting in the way when we talk about skateboarding.”

“Wait, he hasn’t talked about me?”

“Nope. Not at all.”

“Wow, harsh. I’m kinda disappointed... So are you two together or--”

“God, no. We’re just both into skating.”

“Eh. Figures.”

“Wha-- hey! What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing, nothing. I… was just thinking that uh… he’s too dense and you’re too uh…” Shit, she’s glaring. “I mean you’re both too focused on your ambitions to be thinking about love… haha.” 

_Not. Buying it._ That’s what her eyes tell me. Ok, fine...

“Anyway, uh… since when has he even been into skateboarding?”

Leonie sighs and finally stops giving me her death glare. Thank, god.

“...Wait, so if you don’t know about it, that means he’s only been doing this for less than a year… and his kickflips are already that good... Huh, your best friend’s really something, isn't he?"

“Yeah... that sounds like Felix, alright. He’s always been the type to desperately exhaust himself trying to get good at something he really wants to-- ah wait, I just got an idea. Maybe he’ll finally want to talk to me if I learn how to do some skateboard tricks.”

“Uhmm… maybe? But wouldn’t that also depend on the reason why you’re not talking to each other in the first place?”

“Oh, I know Felix. Believe me. I’d say there’s at least an eighty-percent chance he’d take notice if he sees me doing some kickass skateboard stunts.”

“Ok, and how are you going to do that?”

“I-- uhh. Say, Leonie, has anyone told you today that you look absolutely stunni--”

“Can it, Sylvain. So you want me to teach you. You’re gonna have to try harder than that.”

“Harsh. But ok… it was worth a try. How about--” Let’s see… something to convince Leonie... “You know… back at home, I have a vinyl record of J. Eisner’s acoustic album from 19--”

“You-- what-- J. Eisner?!”

The drum sticks topple and roll onto the ground. She freezes. 

“You can have it.”

“I-- You have a deal,” Leonie says a little too quickly.

Ha. Got it.

“Knew I could count on you, Leo.”

  
  


***

  
  


Right, so fuck that eighty-percent chance.

The whole skateboard thing isn’t working out so well. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve been learning pretty quickly. I can land an ollie perfectly now, do some shove-it’s plus the front and backside 180s, even dive into the bowl at the skatepark. Still can’t do a kickflip, and I sprained my ankle a week ago trying.

I’m pretty sure Felix has seen me at the skatepark the past few months, though. He just keeps on pretending I’m not there... even when we’re both talking to Leonie. It really fucking gets to me-- how he acts as if I’m some ghost long dead to him and I can’t help thinking he’s right-- maybe I should be.

He’s stubborn like that. But I guess I am too. I mean, I sprained my ankle vying for this guy’s attention. Weird. It’s almost like I’m courting him… except I’m actually kinda serious about this. Surprisingly.

So progress report: Felix still won’t talk to me.

And I still dream of dark blue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *the rest of the chapters will be in second POV


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The world could be burning dark blue.
> 
> (Jack’s Mannequin - Dark Blue, 2005)

“Hey, what do you say we watch the fireworks together later?” I whisper to Dorothea, putting an arm around her shoulder.

“Oh, Sylvain.” She gracefully slips out of my grasp and laughs like I’d just suggested something out of the question. “I’d love to be in your company but Edie's waiting for me. You can’t possibly let me miss that, can you?” She waves me a half-hearted goodbye before turning to her phone again as she skips out of the backstage.

And just like that, I’m alone again. Ashe had left right after our set to give his siblings a tour around the campus festival, Leonie rushed to help out at the Golden Deer’s food stall, and Dorothea’s on a date.

Somehow, being rejected by her makes me feel like an epic loser from one of those high school teen movies. Which is funny because I’m a fairly good-looking guy who’s in a punk band to boot-- it should be so easy to get girls and guys fawning over me and wanting to be my friend. It’s true, and yet… I feel so lonely it's pathetic. I feel as if everyone else is having fun without me. 

But I guess there’s a reason I’m left out. The same reason _you_ left in the first place.

 _You’re a fucking coward_. 

I know I’m a loser. 

I just happen to look like someone's daydream.

\--

I’d imagine a night like this ending on a forgettable note. I’d hit on someone, grab a few drinks with them, and spend the night until morning making love in close quarters-- then regret everything when I wake up. Just things I do that you hate so much about me.

I’ve had a few drinks, but I’m sober enough to walk past the stalls to distract myself and maybe find some company for the night. 

I don’t expect that to be you. 

Yet every time I’m walking past a crowd on campus or at the skatepark or maybe on the way home, I’m always hoping you’d be there. This time’s no different. So when I finally saw a glimpse of dark blue hair disappear between the stalls lining the outskirts of the quad, I knew it had to be you. Almost immediately, I was making my way swiftly through the crowd-- fixated on the spot where I saw you mere seconds ago. Everything else is a blur-- the faces of the people around me, the dim lights from the stalls, the blaring music drowning out a vague announcement on something about cancelling tonight’s fireworks show. You couldn’t have gone that far yet so once I get to that spot, I search my surroundings for any signs of you and--

There you are.

“Felix!” I call out, chasing after you.

You don’t look back at all and I’m thinking it’s one of two things: either you recognized my voice or you didn’t notice anyone calling you at all. 

I catch up with you, but you don’t spare me a glance. 

Huh, so you did recognize me. Stubborn as ever, aren’t we?

“Felix, come on. Don’t be like this.” You begin to walk away from me again. I reach out to grab your hand, but you’re faster. My fingertips briefly ghost against your palm already slipping away.

“I… I missed you,” I say and you stop walking. I notice you loosening your grip for a moment on something in your other hand. Are those…?

“Hey, uh, are those… sparklers?” I walk up to you, but you just roll your eyes then avoid my gaze. 

Heh, I guess this is progress. You’re not as keen on ignoring me anymore, at least.

“Say… you wanna light them together? I think I heard the fireworks display got cancelled anyway.”

“You can go light them yourself.” You unclench your fist and let the sparklers fall onto the ground. I pick them up quickly just as you turn to walk away.

I walk up to you again, offering one of them. You talk as if you couldn’t care less, but I know better.

“Fe?” I take a step closer. 

It would be so easy for you to just give me a shouting, then walk out on me right now if you didn't want to do this.

There's a few moments of silence before you click your tongue and finally take the sparkler.

"Tsk." 

But you did want this after all. 

I take your hand, leading you to a more open space in the quad, and I’m glad you don’t let go.

“Here.” I bring out a lighter and hand it to you with a smile. You take it, but I could sense a reluctance from you as you looked back and forth from the sparkler to the lighter in your hands. “Felix?” 

“I--” you start, eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

Ok… so I think I get it.

“Don’t tell me you can do a kickflip but you can’t even light a sparkler,” I chuckle. 

“Fuck you.” You glare daggers at me and I take the lighter in your hand. Well, at least I got you to look me in the eye this time.

“Want me to teach you?”

“Just light it. I’ll watch,” You say, irritated.

“Hm, ok.” I reach out towards your hand to hold it in mine. 

“So you gotta point it downwards a bit like this,” I say, guiding your hand.

“...And then make sure to extend your arm a little farther before you light it.” I raise the lighter towards the tip of the sparkler and with a push of my thumb, streaks of light crackle into life before us both.

In its glow, I can’t help but think you looked like your younger self. You had that warm light in your eyes and a soft expression that you used to look at me with-- back when you never even thought you could hate me. Suddenly, there’s a smile on your face-- it’s only a subtle upturn on the corners of your lips but I could see it. I chuckle to myself thinking just how bizarre it is that your irritable self from mere seconds ago could disappear just like that. And come to think of it, I haven’t seen you smile like this in so long.

You suddenly look at me, and something in my chest stirs. My grip on the lighter loosens for a second.

“Sylvain,” you start-- tone bereft of any hostility you had from before. “Thanks… for lighting it,” you mumble a little awkwardly as your eyes hurry back to the sparks of light. 

“No problem, Fe.” 

You raise the sparkler a little higher, turning the streaks of light into makeshift stars and fireworks against the sky. 

For some reason, I feel like I should be the one thanking you. I feel like I’ve just been given another chance-- even though I know I don’t deserve it-- especially coming from you.

I light the other sparkler with the light from yours, and raise it against the sky in the same fashion.

Everything seems brighter at this moment. 

“Felix…” 

I’d like to think you lit up the sky for me too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to leave comments and kudos!
> 
> if anyone wants to talk about fe3h with me on twt, pls bother me:  
> [pieleth](https://twitter.com/pieleth_)
> 
> sylvix playlist this pop punk au was based on if anyone's interested:  
> [dark blue](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/46ZsbW5zThR0x5ATY4jtbe?si=s5Y6dmfMTJu0dGk615eGfQ)


End file.
